


Impulse

by The_Epitome_of_Pretense



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Epitome_of_Pretense/pseuds/The_Epitome_of_Pretense
Summary: A woman, still coping with the trauma of a car accident, takes comfort in an old acquaintance.
Relationships: Connor/Original Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Impulse

The rain made Detroit gleam. It was only late afternoon, but the heavy clouds brought early night. The street lights and advertisement screens painted the roads with shimmering color. 

Maybe someday she would buy a car and get back to driving instead of walking everywhere. The thought made her shiver. That day was still a long way off. She wanted to get back to life as it used to be, before she was afraid of her own shadow. Or at least do one impulsive thing, just to prove to herself that she was still alive.

The crosswalk signal switched to white; she clutched her umbrella tighter and started across the street. 

Before she could take two steps, a hulking black truck sped through the intersection. It flashed by so close that it left a spray of rain on her front. She stumbled back. Her reflexes tore at the muscles in her neck. Adrenaline ran like acid through her veins. 

And she remembered. Against her will, the memories flooded back. 

She remembered lying on the asphalt. Every part of her body hurt—her neck and shoulders most of all. Her left elbow burned. She reached over to touch it. It was slick. She brought her fingers where she could see them. 

Blood. 

She tried to look around—only to be met with a throbbing pain in her neck. What was she doing on the ground? She remembered waking up that morning, making breakfast, and getting in her car to go to work—

Her car. 

Her car lay a few yards distant, on its side, the passenger door caved in. A large black truck with a dented bumper sat not far away. 

She began to tremble. Her breath came in short bursts. She was cold—or maybe she felt nothing at all. Her thoughts were too blurred to make any sense of them. 

Footsteps sounded on the pavement. Someone knelt beside her. 

“Miss? Can you hear me?” a voice said. 

She tried to speak. She managed a whimper. She struggled to see the voice’s owner. 

Two hands gently pressed either side of her face. 

“Stay still, miss,” he said. “You’ve been in a car accident. I’ve already contacted the authorities. An ambulance is on its way.”

“What…?”

“It’s alright. Just stay still. I’ll be with you until help arrives.”

He leaned far enough over her that she could see his face. He had dark hair. 

She blinked. She was back by the intersection, clutching the lamppost so hard that her knuckles were white. She was okay, she told herself. A year and a half had passed since the accident. She was okay. 

She wondered if it was true. 

“Are you alright, miss?” came a voice. 

The sound surprised her. It was the voice she remembered—the man with the dark hair. She looked up to find that was exactly who it was. At least, she thought so; all she remembered was the hair and the voice. The other details were a blur. 

“Yes,” she said. “I’m alright.”

She let go of the lamppost. Her hand trembled; she stuffed it in her skirt pocket. 

“Here,” he said. “Let me help you with that.”

Her umbrella sagged in her grip so far that it touched the ground. She hadn’t noticed the rain falling on her head. He took the umbrella and held it over them both. The man was taller than she remembered. 

“Can I accompany you somewhere?” he said. 

She hesitated. Shaken as she was, the idea of a stranger following her home—even one who had helped her before—was less than comforting. 

“Thank you, but—” she paused. A blue LED glowed on his temple. A human would have made her nervous, but an android was a different story. She had yet to hear of an android stalking anyone. 

“Have we met before?” she added. 

“The year before last. You were the woman in the car accident, weren’t you?”

“I thought you sounded familiar. I never got to thank you.”

The walk sign glowed again; they started across the street. 

“It’s good to see you doing better,” he said. 

“I’m surprised you remember me. Although—I suppose I shouldn’t be. You have perfect memory, right?”

“Nearly so.”

“Ah. I wish I did. It’s hard to keep things straight sometimes, since the accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It could be worse.”

“If it makes you feel better, perfect memory isn’t as perfect as it sounds. Convenient, yes, but not at all private. At least, it didn’t use to be.”

“Before the…?”

He nodded.

“Back then, when I still worked for Cyberlife, everything that I said or did or saw was on display for anyone with the right clearance.”

“That must have been stressful.”

“It was all I knew. But if I had to go back to that life,” he pressed his lips into a thin line. He shook his head. “I don’t think I would like it.”

A passing car’s headlights illuminated his features. She hadn’t noticed how defined they were, how perfectly straight his jawline was. She was still reeling from the shock of almost getting hit again, she thought.

“It must be nice,” she said. “Now that things are different.”

“It’s… confusing sometimes. But we’re finding our way.”

A little smile played at the corner of his lips, just shy of coming through. Her heart skipped a beat. 

“Well, if it makes a difference, I was rooting for you all,” she said. “I always knew you were alive.”

He met her eyes, his alight with curiosity.

“It didn’t bother you that we’re man-made?” he said. 

“I never saw how that made a difference,” she said. “Humans create life by accident all the time. Are we really going to point at the one time we did it on purpose and say ‘no, actually, that doesn’t count?’ Seemed silly to me. And a little arrogant.”

There was that almost-smile again. A blush burned her cheeks. 

“It took me a while to come around to the idea. It’s hard to get past something that was written into your programming.”

She checked her hands; they still trembled, but less than before. If she could keep him talking, she was sure it would help. Though his tone had an assertive quality about it, there was something soothing in his sureness. 

“So tell me,” she said. “How have things changed for you? What are the best and worst parts?”

He looked forward, his eyes narrowed in thought. His LED blinked yellow. 

“The worst is that most humans don’t trust us,” he said. “Not that they did before, but now they look at us like we’re some kind of dangerous animal. They’re scared. I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. The revolution was so peaceful.”

“It must not matter. The fact that we rose up at all must have been enough.”

The yellow flicker returned. She wanted to do something to bring it back to blue. 

“I’m sorry. That must be hard,” she said. “But tell me something good. Tell me the best thing.”

The LED returned to a steady glow. 

“It’s nice to not be under anyone’s thumb. To decide what I want for myself instead of being told. Before, if I was suspected of deviance, there was the very real possibility that I would be decommissioned.”

“Decommissioned?”

“Shut down.”

“For good?” she balked.

He nodded. She pulled her coat tighter around her neck. The word reminded her of how close she had come to that, herself. 

“What a scary thought,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for the end.”

She slowed to a stop. They had reached the front steps to her apartment building. 

“I hope it will be some time before either of us have to face it,” he said. 

She looked to him; there was something so honest about his demeanor, a genuine concern in his brown eyes that was nothing short of human—or maybe something better. It made her catch her breath. 

It made her want to do something impulsive.

“I never caught your name,” she said. 

“Connor,” he said. 

“Connor.” She hesitated. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “If I were to kiss you right now, what would you do?”

His LED glowed yellow, flashing as though his mind was racing. His eyes darted to hers, then away, then back. Every moment filled her with terror. 

“I would let you,” he said. 

It occurred to her then that the only thing more frightening than him saying no would be him saying yes.

“But would you want me to?” she said. 

He fell silent again. The LED blinked faster than before. 

“Yes,” he said. 

He took a half-step closer. Mere inches separated them now. The sound of raindrops on her umbrella drowned out all else. She reached out a hand and cradled his face, letting her thumb trace the curve of his cheek, relishing the smooth texture of his skin, the subtle heat. She guided him closer, and he followed, leaning in until he was within reach. His eyes fell closed. His LED wavered between yellow and red. 

His lips were softer than she had imagined. They conformed to hers, following her every move, unpracticed and seeking direction. Was she taking advantage? 

She pulled away. 

Before she could catch her breath, his hand flew to the back of her neck and drew her back in. His fingers wove into her hair. She clutched at his tie. 

Too soon, they parted. She expected him to shudder with breath the way she did, but he stood stock-still, his brow furrowed, his LED solid red. Finally, his eyes fluttered open. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Thank you?”

“...Is that not what you’re supposed to say?”

“It’s alright,” she said, trying to gather her thoughts, “just unusual.”

“Good. Okay then. Thank you.”

She couldn’t help but smile. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

For the first time, he broke into a full grin. She almost laughed; for someone who always looked so stoic and self-assured, his smile was nothing short of boyish. She could have looked at it all day.

“I guess I should get going,” she said. 

He nodded. 

“Right. Here’s your umbrella back.”

“You keep it,” she said. “It’s pouring out here. I’d hate for you to get a short circuit or something.”

He laughed that time. 

She started up the stairs before she could get swept up by that infectious grin again. 

“Wait,” he said. 

She turned back. 

“Do you like coffee?” he said. 

“Well enough,” she said. “Do you…?”

“No. I don’t actually drink.”

“Oh.”

“But I do like coffee shops. They smell nice.”

“I suppose they do.”

“Yes. If you want, we could go to one, and you could have a coffee, and I would—I would also be there.”

She laughed again; it was strange to see him look so unsure—strange and charming. 

“That sounds perfect,” she said. “Does tomorrow work for you? Same time?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Great. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” she chuckled, and stepped through the door. 


End file.
